Shameless
by scarylolita
Summary: Kenny has a big mouth. When he spills one of Craig's secrets, things take a turn for the worst. Slash.


**South Park © Matt &amp; Trey.**

**Basically more Kenny/Craig PWP with Craig as a kinky lil shit just 'cause I can.  
I finally finished this after it was sitting in my folder for a million years. ****I swear everything I write with Craig has the exact same flavour, but oh well. It's always fun to write :~)**

**Warnings: references to dom/sub, self-harm**

* * *

_You've got a pretty kind of dirty face_

The 1975

**1.**

Craig stands on the public bus as a stranger's hand finds his ass. He lets out a sigh, reaching for the nearest cord and walking towards the door. The bus pulls to a halt and he gets off, taking a deep breath and greeting the cool mountain air. He shoves a hand in his pocket and begins to walk home. Taking out a cigarette, he lights it.

He just got off work. For Craig, work is in an animal shelter just outside of town. The only part he hates is the bus ride… but the public bus is still better than the school bus.

High school ended months ago. Summer passed and winter is back again. Craig doesn't miss school. He hated it.

When he arrives at the end of his driveway, he spots Kenny McCormick sitting on his doorstep. "Hey!" Kenny greets, brightening when he sees Craig. He stands up, brushing the loose strands of hair out of his face before shoving his hands in his pocket. "Were you at work?"

"Yeah," Craig says flatly, tossing the cigarette onto the snow and digging his keys out. He doesn't ask what Kenny is doing loitering in front of his house. He has his hair up in a small bun. It's that time again. Haircuts.

Craig unlocks the door and the two of them take off their boots and jackets. They settle in the bathroom and Craig wraps a towel around Kenny's neck before grabbing the scissors.

"Do your thing," Kenny says, taking the elastic out of his hair and giving Craig the reigns.

"Sit still or I'll mess up," Craig warns.

"Sorry," Kenny snickers, watching Craig in the mirror as he chops the blond locks. "Hey, thanks for always doing this."

"Yeah, whatever," he says. "We both know you're poor as shit."

He's right. Kenny can't afford to throw his money away at a hair salon, so when his hair starts to get unmanageably long, Craig cuts it. He has a talent for it and doesn't mind the task. He doesn't mind spending time with Kenny, either. Kenny always lingers after his hair is cut.

It doesn't take Craig long. When he's finished, he ruffles Kenny's hair, allowing the rest of the stray strands to fall.

"Let me thank you," Kenny says when Craig moves away.

"You don't have to," Craig tells him, sweeping the hair off the floor with a broom. "It's not like I mind doing this."

"I know," Kenny starts, removing the towel and setting it on the counter, "but you don't have to do it and you still do. I want to make it up to you. Let me make you feel good."

Craig raises an eyebrow at that. "How?"

"Have you ever been high?"

"Duh," Craig snorts, sweeping the hair into a dust pan and putting it in the trash.

Kenny smiles wide. "Cool," he says. "I've got some really good shit in the pocket of my parka."

Craig nods his head lightly and the two of them exit the bathroom, moving down the hallway.

Kenny grabs his coat, which is slung over the railing. "Here we are," he murmurs to himself, pulling out a little tin. Inside is a plastic baggy, some papers and some makeshift filters.

"Let's go upstairs," Craig says, nodding for Kenny to follow him. "My mom and dad would have my ass if they came home and smelled pot."

"Fair 'nuff," Kenny says. "My parents smoke it more than I do, so our house always smells like this shit."

They move into Craig's room and Kenny takes a moment to glance around. It's his first time in Craig's room. Blue curtains, blue bed sheets, beige walls, beige carpet. There are no posters hung up or personal items that he can see. It looks barely lived in. There is just a small pet cage on a bureau in the farthest corner of the room. Kenny wanders towards it, staring at the sleeping little animal. "Is this the infamous Stripe?" he asks.

"Mhm," Craig mumbles, sitting on his bed. He feels strange about having Kenny in his room. He feels weird about having someone in his room. He's a private person. He always has been.

Kenny joins him a moment later and Craig watches him roll a joint with expert ease. Afterward, he pulls a lighter out of the pocket of his jeans, raising the joint to his lips.

It doesn't take long for the scent to permeate the walls of Craig's small bedroom. After a long puff, Kenny holds it in, passing the joint to Craig. When they're both thoroughly baked, Kenny puts the joint out in the tin before closing it.

Craig flops backwards, letting his legs hang off the side of his bed. He stares up at the ceiling, letting the airy sensation take him over.

"Bet you'd sound cute moaning my name," Kenny says with a wink, leaning over Craig. He likes to hit on Craig in hopes that someday he'll change his mind.

Craig smiles mirthlessly, pushing Kenny away. "No, thanks."

Kenny thinks of his body like a fun, little machine and he enjoys its many functions – whether he's fucking or taking a shit. "I could make you feel fucking _good_," he says with confidence. "Better than you've ever felt before."

"I don't doubt that," Craig returns. "I hear all the rumors about that magic dick of yours."

Kenny wiggles his eyebrows. "Sure you don't want to go for a ride?"

"What if I said yes?" Craig asks.

"I'd show you a nice time," Kenny responds eagerly, trying to break past the ice.

"Yeah?" Craig challenges.

"Yeah," Kenny says, leaning forward. He presses his forehead to Craig's, a hand slipping beneath his shirt as he feels up and down the warm, pale chest. His mouth finds Craig's a split second later, lips parting and hot tongue probing.

This brief meeting of clothed skin against clothed skin is all Craig has had. No… That's what he'd like to imagine, but there were other times that he was touched. The first time happened at a party Bebe held. Like many other nights, Craig had too much to drink. He was in the bathroom throwing up when Jason came in and locked the door. There was no kissing. It was just the touching of their lower regions. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't the way it was in the movies. The room smelled like vomit. It was dirty and Craig knew it wasn't quite right, but still… When it was over he realized the most important thing – he liked it. He actually liked the feeling of Jason's rough hands on his skin, moving and groping and grabbing places no one else has ever touched.

That happened long ago. High school is over and Craig makes a habit to avoid parties and clubs because he doesn't trust himself when he's had too much to drink. He especially doesn't trust himself when he's around guys that could easily finish him.

"Play with yourself," Kenny teases, smile in place.

"What?" Craig snaps. "No…! Don't be perverse."

"Don't be coy," Kenny says. "I know what you're like."

Craig frowns at that. "How?"

"Jason likes to talk," Kenny reveals as though he was reading Craig mind. "He would talk about you in the locker room sometimes. He said you got horny when he got rough with you."

"Tone it down a bit," Craig murmurs. "You need to ease into these things… y'know?"

Kenny dismisses that. Instead, he asks, "Did you let him fuck you?"

Craig looks off to the side. "I would have," he confesses, "but we didn't."

"Then who did you give a taste to?"

"Well, technically… I'm a total virgin," Craig admits nonchalantly. He could easily pretend otherwise, but he won't. He'll be honest this time. He's not ashamed.

"A virgin?" Kenny's jaw drops. "But you're nineteen!"

"So, what?" he asks.

"You're really… well, you're a sexy guy," Kenny says. "You walk around like you've been fucked into the floor a few times. I just assumed you were, like, this crazy power-bottom or something."

"Calling me a slut?" Craig asks before dismissing it. "I've never touched anyone else," he continues. "It's just other people wanting to touch me. So, I let them. I know it's not right and I know the reasons they want to touch me aren't because they like me… They just want to pull a reaction out of me and see how far they can take things, but I still let them. That's how it was with Jason. The first time we were both drunk at Bebe's house and we just jerked one another off. The second time we were fighting and… I don't know, I just got really hot. He sensed it. I wanted him to fuck me so badly because I was horny as hell, but he wouldn't. So, I jacked off and he fingered me hard. Then I guess he told all his friends. A week later I got cornered by a few seniors and they forced me to masturbate in front of them. It was humiliating… but I liked it. I liked that they were watching me and telling me to do shit and saying nasty things. I liked that they didn't give me a choice."

Kenny looks surprised, but then he chortles. "That's kind of wrong of them, you know."

"I know," Craig admits. "If I _really_ wanted them to stop, I'm sure I could have called for help. I didn't though."

"Jeez," Kenny sighs. "Too bad you didn't say anything. I would've beat them up for yah."

Craig smiles faintly. "It's okay."

"I didn't peg you for that kind of guy," Kenny adds as an afterthought.

"I'm not _any_ kind of guy," Craig insists.

"That's what every dude says about himself," Kenny says. "I used to like to pretend I wasn't a redneck piece of white trash, but I don't deny it anymore."

"You shouldn't talk shit about yourself," Craig murmurs, knowing how wrong it is, though he's a hypocrite for saying it.

"I'm not," Kenny argues. "It's just who I am. I'd rather embrace it than run away from it."

Craig just shakes his head and Kenny stares at him, smiling. He can't help but admire Craig – milk-white skin, dark hair, fine eyebrows, blue eyes and that little freckle above his lip. He doesn't mind the crooked teeth or the sharp tongue. He's wanted to sleep with Craig for a long time, but it's not just sex that's on his mind when he sees Craig. It goes deeper than pure, carnal lust. He wants to make Craig happy.

"So, are we gonna fuck?" Kenny asks.

Craig gives a stiff upper lip. He doesn't want to relent this easily, but he _wants_ it. "Fine," he mutters.

"Only if you want to," Kenny insists. "And if you do, you gotta say it."

"I want it," Craig says evenly. "I want you to fuck me."

Kenny's smile widens. Of course it would happen like this – completely unconventionally. Not that he minds. Somehow, it suits them. "All right, then. Let's do this."

The two boys stand, unceremoniously shedding their clothes. Kenny watches Craig with utmost approval. He really is a beautiful guy and he looks even better without clothes on. Kenny admires with a lewd look on his face.

"What?" Craig asks when he catches him staring.

Kenny doesn't respond. Instead, he moves forward and pinches Craig's nipples, making them stand out. "You've got a wicked body."

Craig flushes at the compliment, wondering if it is half hearted. There are other things Kenny could be staring at. Maybe he's just being polite by not mentioning what he has no right to wonder about.

"Lie down," Kenny instructs.

Craig obeys, moving to the center of the bed and then lying on his back. "There's, um, some _stuff_ in the nightstand…"

Kenny nods, turning and opening the drawer. He fishes out a bottle of lubricant before joining Craig on the bed. He inches his bent knees apart when Kenny approaches, allowing him to settle between them. Kenny mutters a compliment before instructing Craig to lift his legs back. "Pretty sweet view," he says with a smirk.

Craig glances away. "Don't say things like that," he murmurs.

"Aw," Kenny coos, opening the bottle cap and wetting his fingers. "Are you perhaps a little shy?"

"No," Craig insists, denying it.

"Liar," Kenny says with a grin.

"No, I'm –" he starts, only to cut himself off with a moan when he feels Kenny's fingers circling his backside. "Don't tease me…"

"Eager?" Kenny asks, though he has no intention of speeding things up. He wants Craig to be hot and bothered. He's going to enjoy the uncharacteristically wanton look on Craig's stoic face. He wraps his other hand around Craig's partial erection, eliciting quiet hums of satisfaction from the smaller teenager. He moves his fingers in and out slowly before removing them.

Craig bites his bottom lip, watching as Kenny grabs the lube again and coats his dick. He positions himself between Craig's spread legs and slowly enters. Craig releases a quiet breath, relaxing himself and bringing his legs down around Kenny's waist.

"Good?" Kenny asks.

"Mm…" Craig murmurs. He's used to this part. He's never had sex before, sure, but he's used enough makeshift dildos to know what it feels like. However, there is still something different. Perhaps it's because Kenny isn't some inanimate household object. He's a man.

It's true what the rumors say about Kenny McCormick. He's got the magic touch.

Craig writhes around, tossing his hands carelessly above his head. "F-fuck… fuck…" he breathes, back arching off the mattress. He's a loud and whiny fuck and Kenny loves it.

They change positions halfway and Craig gets on his hands and knees. Kenny kneels behind him. "This is a good angle for you," he says, cupping Craig's ass cheeks before spreading them apart.

Craig lets out a quiet moan in response before demanding, "Hurry up."

Kenny positions his erection, pushing back in and grabbing Craig's hips to prevent him from lurching forward with each brisk thrust.

Craig leans down, pressing his face into the mattress and moving a hand between his legs to jerk himself off. He closes his eyes and listens to Kenny panting behind him.

Soon, Craig comes on his bed sheets with a string of loud moans. With a deep sigh, he collapses onto the mattress with his ass still in the air. He opens his eyes as Kenny continues thrusting and grunting behind him. "Want me to pull out?" Kenny asks in a strained tone.

"No," Craig responds before biting on his hand in an attempt to stifle any more pleasure sounds.

"Shit," Kenny breathes. "Gonna come…"

Craig's eyebrows draw together and he clenches at the sensation. It's foreign and unfamiliar.

Releasing a deep breath, Kenny pulls out and admires his work.

"I can feel you staring," Craig says flatly.

"Admiring," Kenny corrects. "This is my favorite angle."

"I can feel it coming out," Craig adds bluntly.

"Yeaaa…" Kenny muses with lewd approval. "You were loud. The bedroom must be the one place you're not all that stoic, eh?"

"Ha," Craig laughs humorlessly.

Kenny releases him, delivering a hard smack to Craig's ass before letting him sit up.

"Ow…" Craig whines, but Kenny simply smiles. He moves forward, pecking Craig on the lips. After that, he grabs a tissue from Craig's nightstand and wipes his dying erection off before handing one to Craig. Craig takes it and folds it before pressing it to his backside. "Ugh…"

Kenny smiles again. He smiles a lot. _Too much_, Craig thinks.

Kenny grabs his tin and takes out the joint, lighting it and together they finish smoking it. Kenny takes the last drag and shotguns it to Craig before putting the filter back in the tin.

"Here," Kenny murmurs, handing Craig the rest of the dime bag.

"What's this for?" Craig asks, taking it.

"I'm feeling generous," Kenny says.

"All right," Craig snorts. He won't say no to that. He takes the tin and steals what's left of Kenny's papers as well, offering Kenny a coy smile as he does so.

"You know," Kenny starts with a laugh, "you could probably get anything you wanted with that look."

"Yeah, I know that," Craig admits.

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes I mess around with my dad's redneck friends," he continues. "I just like getting reactions out of them. Sometimes they recoil but other times they humor my intentions even though they're all married with children. My dad never really notices, but I think if he did he'd probably blame it on them."

"Shit," Kenny says with a laugh.

"I'm an attention seeker," Craig adds.

"You don't seem like one," Kenny comments. "You seem the opposite of an attention seeker."

Craig smiles bitterly. "Yeah, I know. I don't like telling people what I want, yet I still get angry when I don't get it."

"I get like that, too, sometimes," Kenny says. He starts collecting his clothing, putting them back on.

"Are you going to leave?" Craig asks, visibly miffed.

"Sorry," Kenny apologizes. "I promised Kyle and Bebe I'd meet them after you cut my hair, but we got side tracked a bit. They're probably wondering where I am."

Craig gives Kenny a look of blatant distaste.

"Don't be mad…" Kenny pleads.

"I'm not," Craig lies. "I just thought when I lost my fucking virginity the guy would at least stick around for a few minutes after."

"I can come back later?" Kenny offers.

"No," Craig rejects. He finally throws the tissue in the garbage before sitting on his bed and pulling the soiled sheets over his groin. He watches Kenny dress, not wanting to admit that he really wants him to stay. The thought displeases him. He doesn't want to be clingy. He understands that this isn't romance. It was just a fuck.

"I used to catch you looking at me in high school," Kenny says out of the blue.

Craig shrugs. "I'm always looking at lots of things and lots of people. It doesn't mean anything."

Kenny only nods his head. When he has his things, he holds up a hand. "See yah?"

"Maybe," he says flatly. "Thanks for the sex."

"Anytime," Kenny winks before taking his leave.

Craig doesn't bother walking him to the door. He takes the rest of the weed decides to smoke it. He opens the bag and takes a whiff, letting the herbal scent engulf his nostrils. He grabs the pack of papers he jacked from Kenny and begins to roll.

He sits in thought, bringing a hand to touch his forearm in an almost unconscious movement. The skin is matted with scars, some old and faint and white, but some reddened and fresher than the rest – raised lines of skin, some jagged and some straight, but they all come with memories. Craig can tell you about each and every one of them if you had the time and he had the patience. The scars are like roads on his map of pain. There is no real reason as to why he does it, but he likes to imagine he is punishing his own body for its frequent betrayals. He knows he's not quite right in the head.

Kenny never mentioned it, but Craig can tell he wanted to.

* * *

Kenny strolls down the street, feeling good about laying Craig Tucker. He makes his way to Kyle Broflovski's house, excited to share his most recent sexual adventure. Kyle lets him in with a smile. His girlfriend – Bebe – is with him. As soon as they let him in, he doesn't hesitate to give them every dirty detail of his latest fuck.

"He's an antisocial prick," Kenny finishes, "but he has a sweet ass and he's cute when he's horny. The best fucks are people who are pretty and stupid and loud in bed. Craig didn't seem the type, but he proved me wrong."

"That's terrible, dude." Kyle rolls his eyes. "You shouldn't talk shit about someone you just had sex with. It's such bad taste. Plus, I don't think Craig is antisocial. He's just… introverted. There is a difference. He prefers to keep to himself."

"I'm not talking shit –" Kenny tries, only to be cut off a second later.

"You _fucked_ him?" Bebe asks in disbelief, still hung up on it. "You fucked Craig? Craig Tucker?"

"Hell yeah!" Kenny says proudly before suddenly frowning. "But he had, like, all these scars on his forearms and some were even on his thighs. I tried not to stare but… it was hard."

Bebe frowns at that. "Cuts?"

"Yeah," Kenny nods. "I guess he does it to himself."

"Jeez," Kyle says with a sigh. "That's really fuckin' depressing. I guess that's why he's always wearing long sleeved shirts… Dude, you should've stayed with him."

"Yeah," Bebe agrees. "I mean… he's probably not the kind of guy to just sleep with anyone. I'm betting it meant something that he let you in like that."

Kenny rubs a palm down his face. He feels even guiltier for leaving Craig. "Ugh…" Kenny groans. "Now I feel bad."

"You should," Bebe mutters dryly. "_Pretty and stupid and loud in bed_? Tsk."

* * *

It's late when Craig finally decides to get dress. He gets up from under the bed covers and gathers his discarded clothing from the floor, throwing them back on.

He's been locked in his room since Kenny left. When it was over, he felt so tired. He wasn't sure whether it was from the drugs or the sex itself, but he felt like a lot was taken out of him.

By now, his parents are home from work and they are downstairs cooking supper. Craig can smell the familiar scent of spaghetti sauce making its way throughout the house.

Family dinners are always a chore for Craig. He has to smile at the right times and answer every question properly. He needs to let his parents know he's doing all right and that there won't be any repeats of "that one time." No more "slipping up." That's what they call it now. They don't know how else to address it, so they use vague words that could mean anything.

Craig is adopted. It isn't something that bothers him and it's something he has always known. There wasn't a cliché and emotional revelation. It was something he simply accepted. When he sees Laura and Thomas he sees his parents and when he sees Ruby he sees his sister. Though not by blood, they are still his family. He loves them, but they frustrate him to no end.

Once decent, Craig finally leaves his room and makes his way downstairs.

"Your shirt is on backwards," Ruby points out when he enters the kitchen. "And it's inside out."

Craig grabs a handful of the fabric and stares down at the tag. "Oops," he says carelessly, not bothering to fix it.

"You should take better care," Laura says to her son. She is standing in front of the stove next to her husband, Thomas, who is stirring a pot.

Craig mumbles something indiscriminate and sits across the table with his sister.

It's quiet again. No one speaks until dinner is served and everyone is seated with plates of food. Craig picks at his and begrudgingly welcomes inevitable questions from his parents.

"So, Craig," his mother starts, "How was your day? Did you do anything exciting?"

'I lost my virginity today,' he thinks to himself. But of course, he can't say that. So, instead, he just says, "Nothing."

"Karen says Kenny was here," Ruby mentions.

Craig wants to snap at her for making him look like a liar, but he doesn't. "Yeah," he says calmly. "I cut his hair for him."

Ruby snorts at that, but says nothing more.

"That was nice of you," Laura cuts in.

"Yeah, he's pretty poor, so…" Craig trails off and shrugs before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. He can't help but wonder if everyone else feels as tense as he does. Perhaps it's just him. Perhaps it's all the spite he feels from years of neglect and avoidance.

"Well, careful," Thomas warns gruffly. "I hear a lot of weird shit about that kid."

"Like what?" Craig pries, though he already knows the answer. They're rumors he's heard as well.

"Stuart says he can't control his kid," Thomas starts off vaguely.

"He doesn't try," Craig mutters, knowing how little Stuart cares.

"Regardless," Thomas continues, "all the McCormick kids seem to act out. Apparently the oldest one is a whore."

Ruby cackles at that. "Yeah, when he is desperate for money he puts out for all the creepy old men. He's kind of stupid, but he's good looking, so he gets the attention."

"How sad," Laura murmurs.

Craig puts his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his hand. He knows exactly what is going through his father's head. "If you're worried Kenny will try and grope me, you shouldn't bother," he says before finishing the thought in his head, 'because he already fuckin' did…'

"Elbows off the table, Craig," Laura chides before adding, "We can't help but worry about you. You're too lenient and sometimes you don't know how to say no. We understand that you're nineteen and it's a time in your life where you might want to experiment, but…"

Feeling more uncomfortable by the second, Craig fidgets with his hands on his lap. "Are you guys seriously worried that Kenny is gonna _gay me up_?" he snorts back a laugh. "I _am_ gay. I've told you guys that a hundred times."

"Craig, honey, you don't know what you are," Laura says with a sigh.

"Yes, I fucking do," Craig groans, rubbing his temples. This is how it always goes when he tries to come out to his parents. "I've known since I was six!"

"That's a bit young," Laura says. "You've never dated before. How can you be sure?"

All Craig can do is sigh and, just like always, the conversation is over.

* * *

After dinner, Ruby finds her brother in his room. He's sitting on his bed with his laptop opened in front of him. She invites herself in and he doesn't bother sparing her a glance before asking, "What?"

"Maybe try squeezing out a few tears," she says. "That's how I get them to listen to me. I just pretend to get all emotional and they lick it up. They're not homophobic, you know. They just think you're going through a phase. It's dumb, I know, but if you prove to them it's not then maybe they'll stop trying to convince you otherwise."

"I can't cry," Craig admits. "It's too hard these days."

"Well," Ruby muses, sitting near the bottom of his mattress. "Maybe you could use shock value. Just tell them about all the guys you've slept around with." She starts chortling a second later.

"That would be a really fucking small list," Craig admits. "Like… a one person list."

Ruby pauses, tilting her head to the side. "You've only slept with one person?"

"Yes," he states.

"Wow," she deadpans. "That means my kill count is higher and I'm way younger!"

"Shocking," he says flatly, though he's not shocked at all. "But let's _not_ have this conversation."

Ruby nudges him. "So, who was it?" she pries.

"Kenny," Craig decides to admit as he scrolls through Facebook. Heh doesn't want to see the smug smile that is surely on her face.

"I'm not even surprised!" she laughs. "Well, if they ever bring it up around me I'll try to convince them that you're not into girls."

"Thaaanks," Craig says with sarcasm.

"So, when did it happen?" she starts prying again.

"Today," he responds. "Right on this bed."

Ruby grimaces and stands up quickly. "Wash your sheets!"

* * *

**2.**

Late one night, Craig hears a _clacking_ sound. He turns around and realizes that it's coming from his window. He sits up and moves towards it, peering outside only to see Clyde waving his hands around at him. Humored, Craig opens the door. "Wow, here to romance me?" he teases lightly.

With a snicker, Clyde starts with, "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?"

Craig can't help but laugh. "Dumbass, what is it?"

"Hey, dude," Clyde greets with a chuckle. "I didn't want to ring the bell and wake your parents up and you weren't answering your phone. So…"

"It's charging," Craig explains. "Go around the front. I'll let you in."

Clyde nods and runs off a split second later. Craig closes his window, shuddering slightly from the cold air as he leaves his room and moves downstairs. Opening the door as quietly as he can, he lets Clyde in.

"What's up?" he asks.

"My dad is being a tool again," Clyde snorts, kicking his boots off. "I didn't want to be home."

"Sorry," Craig sympathizes. He knows how Roger Donovan is. He's been stiff with Clyde ever since the death of his wife, Betsy. It's become something normal, as sad as it sounds.

"Eh, it's fine," Clyde dismisses with a shrug as they move into the basement. "I'm pretty used to it by now."

Clyde removes his coat and tosses it to the floor near the wall. He's wearing pajamas underneath – plaid pants and a red t-shirt.

"Still shitty," Craig says as they move into the room. Together they take the cushions off of the pull-out sofa and settle on a mattress.

Clyde shrugs again and decidedly changes the subject. "So, what about you? Do anything fun today?"

"Worked an early shift," Craig says before thinking to himself, 'And I lost my virginity.' But he doesn't say that. The words won't come out. Still, part of him wants to say it. Part of him wants to talk about it.

"Is that it?" Clyde asks.

"What else would there be?"

The jock shrugs. "You just seem a bit off, no offence."

"Well, I'm _not_," Craig insists defensively. "I'm the exact same as ever."

Clyde lets out a sigh. He's used to this. It doesn't take much for Craig to enter defense mode. "Okay, dude. Sorry."

"Fuck it, I'm lying," he relents easily a split second later. "I slept with someone earlier. So, I'm no longer a virgin."

Clyde's jaw drops. "For real?"

"For real."

"Who was it?" Clyde immediately asks. "Are you okay?"

Craig can't help but laugh at the concern in his tone. "Yeah, I'm fine," he promises. "It was Kenny."

Clyde gives a thoughtful nod. He isn't surprised in the least. "I guess that makes sense."

"It was nice," Craig murmurs, "but he left as soon as it was over."

"What! _Why_?" Clyde asks, outraged.

"Said he was meeting friends," Craig explains.

"Dick move," Clyde mumbles. "You fuck someone then the least you can do is stick around and chat. I mean, shit…"

Craig agrees, nodding his head. "I kind of wish he did stay, but I didn't want to get all clingy."

"You deserve to be a little clingy," Clyde insists. "I mean, you did sleep with him."

"I kind of knew it would be like that with him," Craig admits. "I knew he wasn't going to stay with me afterward. I kind of forced myself to be okay with it when his dick was in my ass."

Clyde smiles sympathetically. "You like him a bit, huh? Tell him how you feel."

"I don't know what I feel," Craig says quietly.

"Well, take some time to figure it out."

"I think I will."

"Hey, thanks for telling me all this," Clyde says out of the blue.

"You're my best friend," Craig replies. "Of course I'd tell you."

This is how it's always been with them and in the end, Clyde is the one person Craig feels like he can really talk to. Clyde was the first to find out about Craig's sexuality. He was there to reassure and he was there to promise that things would always be cool between them.

There is only one secret he keeps from the other teenager. It's the secret Kenny found out earlier that day. It's something Craig has a hard time talking about. It's something he knows he'll never be able to say aloud. It's too difficult. No one understands. He knows Clyde wouldn't understand, either.

* * *

In the morning, the two teenagers wake up side by side on the mattress. Still too tired to check the time, Craig simply lies still and stares up at the ceiling, letting time pass.

He doesn't work today, so he can afford to laze about.

Clyde, on the other hand, rushes out as soon as he's awake. Craig doesn't bother walking him out. Instead, he continues to lie on the mattress.

Since he has had time to sleep on it, he feels worse about what he did with Kenny. Embarrassed, almost. He lets out a groan and burrows into the sheets, not quite ready to face the day. So, instead, he falls back asleep.

* * *

When Craig wakes up, he is more than shocked to see Bebe hovering over him. He lets out a shrill sound and jumps away, nearly rolling off the bed.

The girl laughs and says, "Nice one." She sits on the edge of the mattress and adds, "But on a more serious note, I wanted to come by and talk to you about something."

"Uh-oh," Craig says as he collects himself. "What is it?"

"Kenny," she states and Craig immediately pales. "Yeah," she continues before he can ask. "He told us all about it."

Craig closes his eyes, unable to maintain eye contact. "_It_? What, uh… What exactly did he say?"

"Um," Bebe pauses. "He said you were _pretty and stupid and loud in bed_."

Craig's jaw tightens and for a moment, he's completely quiet. He can't bring himself to speak. His humiliation deepens and on top of that there is also anger. "He… He told people that?" He eyes Bebe for a split second before turning away and staring off into space. He presses his finger tips to his lips and remains quiet.

"Just me and Kyle, I think," Bebe admits gently, "but yeah… he did. I'm sorry. I don't want to try and justify his behaviour, but Kenny is such an oblivious guy. He has no filters. He just blurts out every word that springs to his mind. To him, mean things like that are like saying the sky is blue or the grass is green. It's not right, but it's the way he is. Anyway… I thought you deserved to know since we've been friends longer."

And she's right. Back when she dated Clyde, the three of them were virtually inseparable. That was long ago, but the three of them remained close. The only reason Bebe is friends with Kenny is because she now dates Kyle.

"Well… shit," Craig murmurs. "Uh, okay…" he pauses.

"Look, that's not all he said," Bebe continues awkwardly. "He, um… He said you had some scars? Like, from self-harm?"

Craig's chest immediately tightens. "What does he mean by that?" he asks tersely. "I don't fucking cut myself. I'm not some faggy emo kid. I have some scratches but they're just from animals."

"Can you show me?" she requests. She knows she has no right, but she's worried.

"What the _fuck_? No! Why do you have to see them?" he asks in the same, cold tone. "I _do_ work at a pet shop, Bebe. I have _nothing_ to prove to you."

"Okay!" she exclaims. "Jesus, Craig. You don't need to get so snappy."

"Well, I don't really like what you're insinuating," he retorts, justifying himself. "Why would I hurt myself on purpose? That's just pathetic. Go away now, you're pissing me off."

Bebe starts to get huffy, but she stops herself. "Fine," she relents quietly, standing up and leaving without another word.

After a few minutes, Craig stands up, too. Leaving the pull-out mattress, he retreats to his bedroom. The air feels stuffy and he feels like he might suffocate and choke on each breath he takes.

He locks the door and then hovers in the center of the room. Pressing his finger tips to his eyelids, he sucks in deep, heaving breaths and starts to shake. He doesn't want Bebe to tell Clyde. This is his secret. He didn't think Kenny would share it. He thought he would have enough sense not to talk. Now all he can do is blame himself for the lapse in judgement.

Craig lets out a long breath, slowly letting his hands fall back to his sides. He sits on the edge of his mattress and stares off into space. He feels his eyes blur with tears he doesn't want to let slip and soon the entire room turns fuzzy. He closes his eyes and feels two warm trails slide down each cheek.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself, wringing his hands together before ghosting his thumbs over each matted wrist. He touches, but he doesn't look. He can't. Letting out a shuddery sigh, he forces himself to stop. He hunches over with his head in his trembling hands, trying his hardest to remain calm but it's impossible. He sniffles, letting out a whimper when he tries to stifle the sobs that want to escape his throat. He pulls on his hair, feeling sick to his stomach and dizzy with fear.

What will they say?

What will they do?

How will they act?

How will things change?

Craig doesn't want it to. He doesn't want them to find out what he keeps hidden. He doesn't want them to start tip-toeing around him.

He feels his stomach tighten as all the what-ifs pervade his mind. He feels like he's going to lose it. He releases his hair and presses his palms over his face before begrudgingly welcoming the first sob. Then he unravels completely, slumping forward onto the carpet and crying into his hands. His cries are soft, stifled, tired and pained. Part of him wishes he could find it in him to cry like a child – completely unrestrained. He'd like nothing more than to start screaming, but he can't. He knows he can't. He can't afford Ruby to hear him. He can't afford for his parents to ask more questions.

And he doesn't know what he's more upset about: Kenny humiliating him with lewd comments or Kenny telling people about his scars. It's too much.

After what feels like hours, Craig is lying still on the carpet with his hands tossed above his head. He feels drained, physically and mentally. There is a dull ache in his head and his eyes are still leaking every time he blinks. He stares up at the ceiling, trying to calm himself down but the task seems impossible. He turns his head to the side and stares at the door, wondering how long he's been locked in his room. No one has knocked. He's not surprised. No one ever knocks.

'Good,' he thinks to himself because this isn't the kind of attention he wants. He doesn't want to wail and moan to his parents only to have them give him hugs and pity. He doesn't want that. He just wants them to understand.

Emitting a sigh, he forces himself to sit up. He feels a distinct heaviness in his head as soon as he's right-side up. His nose starts running again. He wipes it off on his sleeve and then crawls towards the wall-length mirror that hangs on his door. He eyes himself critically, grimacing at the sight of his messy, unkempt appearance. Flushed face, red nose, bloodshot eyes, damp cheeks.

'Disgusting,' he says to himself. He looks away and forces himself to his feet. His movements are groggy. He sits back down on his bed and opens his nightstand, taking out a box. He sits it on his lap and opens it. Gauze, tape, bandages, alcohol patches… and of course fresh razors. He picks one up and holds it between his thumb and pointer finger, staring down at it.

After rolling up his sleeve, Craig presses the razor firmly against a patch of unblemished skin and lets it slide.

* * *

In the evening, the doorbell rings and Craig hears his mother shout his name. While he's no longer crying, his head still hurts. He pulls himself out of bed and runs into the hall and down the stairs. Before he can ask what she wants, he sees Kenny standing on the welcome rug.

"What?" he nearly snaps.

"Wow, ouch," Kenny says. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"Sorry, no," Craig states, crossing his arms.

Laura eyes them both before silently relenting and leaving them alone.

"Why are you so mad?" Kenny asks. "Because I didn't stay yesterday?"

Craig dismisses both of the questions. Instead, he nods for the Kenny to follow him upstairs. With an unsure look, Kenny does so and soon they're in Craig's room.

"So," Craig starts, "according to Bebe I am _pretty and stupid and loud in bed_. Ring any bells?"

Kenny winces, internally cursing. "You weren't supposed to hear that…"

"Well, I did," Craig points out.

"I'm sorry," Kenny apologizes sincerely.

Craig shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his temples. "Fine, whatever."

"Just like that?"

"Yes," he says impatiently. "Just like that. Contrary to popular belief, I don't like fighting with people."

Kenny shakes his head in disbelief. "Dude, get _mad_ at me! I deserve it. Don't just sit back and take it."

"You're not worth it," he says, giving Kenny a blow to his ego.

Kenny's eyebrows draw together. "Ouch."

"Hm," Craig pauses before musing, "Maybe this is what my parents were talking about. They say I'm too lenient… too permissive."

"You are," Kenny murmurs.

Craig wrinkles his nose at the thought of it. "I always get so fucking sad when I think about why I am the way I am," he admits. "When I do, it's forcing myself to acknowledge all the shit I experienced and took. All the shittiest parts of our lives shape us negatively. It's hardly preventable, but I suppose once you realize it you can try putting a stop to it and bettering yourself."

"Were people mean to you?" Kenny asks gently.

"Well, yeah," Craig snorts. "God, your friends were such assholes to me for years. They kind of lost interest in me when high school came, but when we were kids they always gave me a hard time. I'm not completely innocent, either. I mean, there were times I'd retaliate… but yeah, they definitely started it. They were manipulative as hell. You weren't really active in their bullying, though. They seemed to push you around just as much as me."

Kenny chuckles at that. "Yeah, that's pretty true. They were always trying to manipulate me and convince me to do weird shit for their amusement. They grew up, though."

"Hm…" Craig sits down on his bed and Kenny joins him. "I guess I just let people use me now."

"I'm sorry," Kenny apologizes again.

"It's whatever," Craig says dismissively, shrugging his shoulders.

"Look… about the cuts…" Kenny starts, letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry I told people. Lapse in judgement. I have, like, verbal diarrhea. The most severe kind."

Craig nods his head, but remains silent for many long minutes. When he decides to speak, a confession comes out. "My parents once saw me doing it," he starts airily, sounding detached from the words coming out of his mouth. "They didn't sit me down to talk. They didn't ask me what was wrong or why I felt the need to fuck myself up. They just demanded that I absolutely _did not_ do it again. So… I said I wouldn't and I guess they believed me because they never checked. I guess I got good at lying."

"Shit," Kenny whispers.

"They love me," Craig says, "but they just don't understand. They're kind of stupid when it comes to a lot of stuff. They don't get any of it."

"They should try to…" Kenny mutters before asking, "You don't regret it, do you?"

"Letting you fuck me?" Craig asks before answering, "No, it's just weird. I thought it would be different, you know? When I was younger I always thought it would happen with someone I love, someone who I was in a steady relationship with… I mean, I knew it would be a guy. I knew I liked guys since I was a kid. But, yeah, I dunno... That's just how I wanted it to happen."

"Do you feel any different?" Kenny pries.

Craig snorts at that. "No. Sorry, your dick isn't special enough to change me."

Kenny smiles at Craig's attitude. "But you have to agree I've got the magic touch."

"What's your kill count, then?" Craig asks out of the blue.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Kenny teases lightly.

"Just tell me."

"Okay, truthfully I don't even remember," Kenny admits. "I just know it's probably at least twenty and definitely more girls than guys. When I try to count, I always forget a few. So, I stopped trying."

"Jesus," Craig murmurs, surprised. "That's gross."

"Ha…" Kenny says flatly. "Funny, coming from you. You let me fuck you and we aren't even dating."

"Calling me loose?" Craig asks.

"You _are_ loose," Kenny states. "It's not a bad thing, you know. I'm loose, too. So, hey, next time you want to get off, come to me, okay? I don't want you settling – especially not on creeps who won't treat you right."

"Possessive?" Craig asks coyly.

"Maybe a bit," Kenny admits, though he knows it makes him hypocritical. Just the other day he was the one talking shit.

"Pretty funny coming from the guy who called me stupid," Craig points out.

"I'm soooorryyyyy," Kenny says yet again, sounding like he honestly means it.

"Yeah," is all Craig says.

Kenny reaches forward and grab's one of Craig's wrists. When he doesn't protest, Kenny rolls his sleeve up. There are fresh cuts, some covered with bandages with blood soaking through. It makes Kenny sad and it makes him confused, but he knows if he's going to stick around it's something he'll need to try and understand.

Craig takes a shuddery breath. "I feel like I'm not fully alive but I'm not dead yet, either," he starts. "I'm always in this in-between state and it feels numbing and constant and never-ending, despite my best efforts. I'm so anxious all the time."

"Shit," Kenny deadpans, unsure what else to offer. "That's heavy."

* * *

**3.**

The following few days pass without a hitch and Craig keeps hoping Bebe didn't tell Clyde anything.

Unfortunately, when he arrives home from work he sees Clyde sitting in the living room with Ruby.

"What the fuck do you want?" Craig asks with a sigh.

"Wow, way to welcome your best friend," Clyde snorts, sitting up. "I came to talk."

In mutually silent consent, the two of them move upstairs and into Craig's bedroom.

"All right, what is it?" Craig demands, crossing his arms and readying himself for the worst. The two of them stand in the center of Craig's bedroom, staring at one another.

"Bebe is worried about you, but she wouldn't tell me why," Clyde starts.

"Tell your _ex-girlfriend_ to mind her own damn business," Craig mutters, knowing the mention of their long-over relationship will strike a chord. After all, Clyde still loves her and Craig is willing to use it against him. He knows it isn't right of him, but he's still sour about the conversation he had with her.

Clyde frowns and his eyes glaze over. "She's worried about you… and she's not the type of person who overreacts."

"Guess you know _all_ about what type of person she is," Craig mutters. "As you can see, I'm fine, Clyde. Now go moon over her some more and get out of my hair."

A pause.

And then Clyde starts to cry. Just like Craig knew he would. He's always been a major crybaby and it doesn't take much to set him off.

"Stop it, you dick!" Clyde snaps at him, swiping at his eyes. "I'm trying to have a fucking conversation with you! You don't have to keep throwing the breakup IN MY DAMN FACE LIKE THIS!" His voice gets louder and louder until he's shouting and it throws Craig off.

"Shut up!" he shouts back, balling his fists at his sides. "Stop yelling!"

"Stop trying to make this about _me_ when it's about _you_! What the hell are you scared of, Craig?"

Another pause.

"I'm not scared of anything," he murmurs, trying to convince himself it's the truth.

"Yes, you are," Clyde says with a sigh, softening. "Dude, I can _tell_ you are."

Instead of responding, Craig tries to leave the room only to have Clyde grabs his wrist. He feels a sharp pang as Clyde's grip tightens around his fresh cuts. "Let go of me," he says firmly, trying to keep a straight face.

Clyde doesn't. Instead, he pulls Craig towards him and unknowingly causes the fabric of the other male's shirt to scrape against his cuts.

"Ow…!" Craig cries, unable to stop himself.

Clyde immediately releases him, holding up his hands. "What the hell, dude?"

Craig holds his wrist, eyebrows drawn together. "Your grip was too tight," he lies, watching the look of doubt spread across his best friend's face. 'He doesn't believe me,' he thinks. 'He knows I'm lying.' Feeling trapped, Craig points to the door. "Go away, Clyde. I'm seriously fine. Look, I'm sorry for being a dick, but I'm tired and I don't want to keep arguing."

Clyde softens, but he doesn't leave. Instead, he moves forward and wraps his arms around Craig, pulling him into his chest. "Why don't you ever talk to us?" he asks. "We're not stupid people. We know you're lying."

Craig presses his forehead against Clyde's shoulder. "Maybe I'm just not ready to talk."

"So… you admit there's something wrong?"

"Just _drop it_, Clyde," Craig says pleadingly, drawing back and giving him a light shove.

"Is it something bad?" Clyde pries one last time.

With a sigh, Craig relents, "Yeah, Clyde. It's something bad."

* * *

Clyde leaves after that, but Craig knows it isn't the end. He allows the next few days to be filled strictly with work and tries not to think.

Instead of going straight home after his shift, he makes his way to Tweek Bros and gets himself some tea. He sits alone and after a few minutes, Tweek disappears from behind the counter to join him.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," Craig echoes. "Been a while."

"Yeah," Tweek says. "What's been up?"

"Nothing good," Craig admits with a bitter laugh. "I feel like everyone is on my case lately…"

"Usually when people are annoying it's because they care," Tweek offers.

"Some things are hard to talk about," Craig murmurs.

"Yeah, I know."

And Craig knows he knows. Tweek's drug habits are infamous among South Park's residence. "I dunno what to do," Craig confesses offhandedly.

"Try listening to them."

* * *

**4.**

After a while, Kenny decides to finally stop playing around. After a shift at the local gas station, he jogs to Craig's house. With a knock on the door, he is let inside by Ruby. "Here for Craig?" she assumes. "He's in his room."

He thanks her with a nod and slips off his shoes before running upstairs. Inside his bedroom, Craig is leaning against his pillow reading a book. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a long-sleeved blue shirt. There are wire-framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. Without looking up from the page, he says, "Back again?"

"Hey," Kenny says, moving into the room. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Just for reading," Craig says, putting a bookmark in the page and setting it on the nightstand.

"They look good," Kenny offers.

Craig forces a smile, taking them off and putting them back in their case. "So, what do you want?"

"Look, I _like_ you," Kenny confesses pointedly. "I just got kind of stupid about it."

"Why do you like me?" Craig asks. "Because I rejected you? Do you like games like that?"

"No," Kenny says impatiently. "I've been interested in you for a while, since before we even slept together. I just… I thought you were nice."

"Well, I thought you were nice, too, until you decided not to be nice," Craig bites out.

"Can I have a second chance?" Kenny pleads. "I'll do everything right this time and if I don't, I'll never bother you again."

Craig lets out a long sigh. "Truth is, I liked you, too. I mean, what's not to like? You're funny and friendly and I feel at ease when I'm with you. I guess that's why I finally said yes. Plus, you're clearly experienced and you know how to make someone feel good. Then you went and fucked it up."

"I know…"

Craig holds up his pointer finger. "_One_ more chance is all you get."

Kenny nods his head, feeling a mix of relief and happiness rolled into one. "So… what does this make us?"

"We kind of did it backwards… but we can be boyfriends?"

Kenny smiles. "Yeah, I like that. We'll take it slow."

"Not too slow," Craig says. "I don't want you tip toeing around me."

"Fair enough," Kenny agrees.

Craig grabs his laptop from his desk and places it on the mattress. "Are you going to stick around?" he asks, opening it.

"If you want me to," Kenny says.

"Let's watch a movie," Craig decides, scrolling through his list of illegal downloads. As Craig chooses a movie, Kenny sits down with him on the bed. Their shoulders touch, but nothing more.

* * *

The following Tuesday, Clyde decides to hold an intervention.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bebe asks, feeling wary.

"No," he admits, "but I don't know what else to do…"

"Craig isn't going to be happy," Bebe says in a murmur.

"What's this about?" Token cuts in.

"Craig has been off for a while," Clyde says with a shrug. "He's keeping secrets and they are clearly weighing him down."

They're all standing in the living room of the Donovan residence. Clyde called Craig mere minutes earlier. He knows that this will likely end in a mess, but he can't help but hope something good will at least come from it.

Soon enough, the doorbell rings and when Clyde answers, Craig is standing on the porch looking stoic as ever. "What's up?" he asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind himself.

"Come into the living room," Clyde invites, putting both of his hands on Craig's shoulders and steering him.

"Uh, why?" he asks, but it all pieces together as soon as he sees Bebe and Token. He feels a knot in his gut and a lump in his throat. 'No, no, no, no…' he thinks desperately. 'Not this…'

"Intervention time, Craig," Clyde starts, only to be cut off when Craig starts laughing loudly and nervously. Without a word, he runs out of the room and exits the Donovan residence, booking it down the street and leaving his friends in stunned silence.

* * *

Tears come easy now. They never used to. It is like a dam broke in his mind. Now there's nothing keeping his emotions in place. Craig was once so practised in bottling his emotions, but it has become too difficult. He feels like he's losing it. When he arrives home, he doesn't bother taking his shoes off before running upstairs. As he passes Ruby's bedroom, she eyes him suspiciously, but he doesn't stop when she calls his name. He retreats to his own room and slams the door, locking it for good measure. He kicks his shoes off and they bang against the wall. He rips off his coat, tossing it to the floor. He's panting, but he's not sure whether it's from the running or the anxiety that is pouring out of him.

He sits on the floor and takes a string of deep, heaving breaths.

Then there's a knock at his door.

"What?" he snaps, swiping at his wet eyes.

"Craig, sweetie, Ruby said you looked upset. Are you all right?"

It's his mother.

"No!" he snaps again. "I'm not all-fucking-right!"

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offers.

"No, because you NEVER FUCKING LISTEN!" he screams. He doesn't care anymore. He doesn't care who hears him. He's hurting and he's too overwhelmed to care about anything other than that.

His mother doesn't respond after that. He knew she wouldn't. He brings a hand over his face and lets out a string of gut-wrenching sobs. He's ashamed and it can't be fixed or reversed. It's something he'll have to live with.

After a few more minutes, there is a click and then his door creaks open. Laura is on the other side holding a fine-toothed comb. She takes a step inside before closing the door once again.

Craig stares at her with parted lips and a lifeless expression. He doesn't have it in himself to be angry at her or even humiliated about his display of grief. He's too tired. "Mom…" he whimpers. "Mommy… Mom… I don't know what to do…"

With a piteous look, she kneels down on the carpet in front of him and slowly envelops him. "Sh, you're okay," she soothes. "You don't have to do anything."

He leans into her, crying until he no longer can. It doesn't feel wrong. It doesn't feel strange. He feels the way he did when he was young and he'd hurt himself doing something stupid. This is what mothers are supposed to do.

Eventually, Craig grows quiet and still apart from the tremors.

"Craig," Laura says his name quietly, rubbing his shoulders. "Talk to me."

He pulls away from her and they're once again sitting face-to-face on the carpet. He rolls up his sleeves and then holds out both of his arms. Her eyes go wide and for what feels like a long time, she remains silent.

"Say something," Craig whispers.

Tentatively, she reaches forward and holds his wrists. "Craig, why?"

"Are you going to yell at me again?"

"No," she says softly. "Just… help me understand."

So, he does. For the first time in his life he talks and this time his mother listens.

* * *

Late in the night, Craig feels better in ways but worse in others. Now that the pain has subsided, he welcomes the inevitable humiliation. As he lies in bed, he can't stop as the thoughts pervade and soon enough he is reliving the tantrum he had earlier in the day.

He rolls around in bed, trying to suppress the panic he feels. He sits up and grabs his phone from its charger, checking his messages for the first time in days.

_BEBE STEVENS: I'm really sorry. _

_BEBE STEVENS: Are you mad? It was Clyde's idea! _

_CLYDE DONOVAN: Dude text me. _

_CLYDE DONOVAN: Hurry up. _

_CLYDE DONOVAN: Text me back wtf. _

_CLYDE DONOVAN: Please?_

_TOKEN BLACK: Hey, I'm here if you need me. _

_TWEEK TWEAK: Everything okay? _

_KENNY MCCORMICK: I heard what happened. How are you holding up?_

Somehow, seeing all the concern makes him feel slightly better. With a sigh, Craig responds to Bebe first, telling her he isn't mad anymore and then apologizing for getting so angry. He tells Token he's appreciative, he tells Tweak he's fine, he tells Kenny he feels like shit and he texts Clyde back very last –

_CRAIG TUCKER: You have to promise not to do that again. _

Craig doesn't expect any responses tonight since reaching the AM, but in a mere minute, Clyde responds. It makes Craig wonder if he's been waiting around for a reply.

_CLYDE DONOVAN: I'm really sorry. I didn't think you'd be so mad. I don't understand it. We just want to help._

_CRAIG TUCKER: It's private. _

_CLYDE DONOVAN: Okay. How are you now? _

_CRAIG TUCKER: The same. _

_CLYDE DONOVAN: Can I drop by?_

_CRAIG TUCKER: It's late. Go to bed. _

_CLYDE DONOVAN: I'll go to bed at your house. _

_CRAIG TUCKER: Fine, douche._

With that, Craig pockets his phone and with quiet feet he moves downstairs. It doesn't take Clyde long to arrive at the Tucker residence, which causes Craig to assume he was already outside by the time he got the first text.

Craig welcomes him inside silently, making sure to lock the door afterward.

"So… hey," Clyde greets awkwardly.

"Hey," Craig echoes and they move down into the basement just like the last time. The mattress is still pulled out from when Clyde last stayed the night. Craig gathers spare blankets from the linen closet and the two of them settle on the bed in the dim room.

"Look," Craig starts with a weary sigh, "I know you care, okay? I _know_ that."

"Then why can't you be honest with me?" Clyde asks, sounding dejected.

"It's not about you!" Craig hisses, growing impatient. No one will give him any privacy and he's getting sick of it.

"But why –" the other male starts again, only to be cut off.

"Because I _can't_ say it!" Craig continues, his voice growing louder. He's frustrated. He's frustrated that Clyde can't seem to understand it. "I physically _can't_ say it! There have been times when I've tried, but the words _never_ come out!" Craig sits on his bed, pressing his fingertips to his closed eyelids. "Look, can you drop it? I'm literally gonna lose it in, like, five seconds." His voice sounds high pitched and wet at the same time.

"Craig, I –" Clyde tries, only to be cut off.

"Clyde, _please_," Craig's voice breaks. "Fuck!"

Clyde stares critically at his friend and the look on his face speaks volumes. It isn't the face of a teenage boy in good health. His expression says something more – something that Clyde is afraid to understand. But, still, he wants to. So, he says, "Craig, I just want to help…"

"You can't," Craig murmurs.

"Even if I can't do anything directly… I'll be here to listen and I'll be here to talk when you need to talk."

And maybe that in itself _is_ helping. So, for the second time, Craig pulls up his sleeves and watches as Clyde's expression falls.

"Shit," he whispers.

"Yeah," Craig states before repeating, "Shit."

With pity, Clyde asks, "Why do you do that?"

"I'm uncomfortable with myself and the things I want," Craig confesses. "I'm anxious. I'm too hard on myself. I'm too critical. I don't know. There are a whole bunch of reasons, I guess. This offers relief. I like the way it feels."

Clyde softens, but he doesn't push for more. Instead, they both sit still. Clyde puts an arm around Craig's shoulder and they're both quiet.

* * *

**5.**

So, it is out in the open. For Craig, this feels like a step forward. His best friend knows, his mom knows and his boyfriend knows. He knows they'll likely talk amongst themselves. Soon, his father will know. Soon, his other friends will know. Soon, they'll understand.

"What do you like?" Kenny asks as they settle in his room. "In bed, I mean. I don't want to do anything you don't like."

They've been spending more time at the McCormick residence. It's small, but during the day they get more privacy. During the night, however, Stuart and Carol always have their drunken friends over. It gets loud.

"I don't know," Craig admits. "My experience is limited… but we can ease into things. Don't be so gentle. Push me around a bit, but don't say anything mean."

"Safe word?" Kenny asks. "How about, um… Red. It's like saying stop without actually saying the word _stop_. I want you to trust me. Completely. So… we'll do it all at your pace."

Craig nods his head. He feels eager, yet shy and very glad that Kenny is willing to be so patient.

Kenny holds one of Craig's wrists, lightly ghosting his thumb down a patch of old scars. "Why do you do it?" he asks quietly, trying to make his voice sound gentle but pity free.

"Because it feels good," Craig says with a short laugh. "Like, really good… and I know that sounds fucked up but when I feel like I'm losing my shit it calms me down."

"Why do you need to calm down?" Kenny pries gently.

"My anxiety makes me go fucking crazy," Craig snorts. "I mean it. I worry about everything, but I never express my worry. I'm really uncomfortable with myself."

Kenny nods his head. "What kinds of things do you worry about?"

"The future, the past, the present," Craig lists. "Relationships, sex… and then I worry about stupid things like swimming and eating in public… and it's so fucked up because the way I cope leaves a mark and that itself gives me even more anxiety because then I worry about people seeing them. It's a ridiculous cycle that I can't seem to quit."

"When you feel these things, talk to me, okay?" Kenny says, releasing the other teenager's wrist to grab his hand, holding it in his own.

"Okay," Craig agrees. "I was thinking that maybe I'd see a doctor about it... but I don't know."

"That'd be good," Kenny says.

Craig nods his head lazily. "I spoke to my mom about it," he adds as an afterthought. "She'll talk to my dad. I feel like that was a major step. I talked to Clyde, too. I told him he could talk about it with Bebe and Token because it's kind of inevitable, but I didn't really want to talk about it with them myself. I guess that's cheating, but…" he trails off and shrugs.

"It's not," Kenny assures him. "You need to do it all on your own time."

"Thanks," Craig says.

"I'll be here," Kenny promises.

"Thanks," Craig says again.

"I'm sorry for being stupid in the past," Kenny adds.

Craig shrugs. "It's fine. We're moving past it."

Kenny smiles a small smile. "I like you a lot."

"Good," Craig says decidedly. "I like you a lot, too."

And that's what matters.

**Fin.**


End file.
